After a time, Michael realized that he would never convince himself to ignore his parents’ wishes entirely. Instead he turned his mind to more pleasant thoughts. Michael remembered the kiss that he and Betsey had shared during the journey to Tinsworth. Desire stirred within him as he remembered the way that Betsey had moaned at his touch, and he imagined all of the ways that he might make her moan in the future.
When the carriage pulled up to Hillfield Manor, the sky was fully dark, and Michael knew that his mother at least would be wondering where he was. Indeed, when he arrived, the butler immediately told him that the Countess was waiting for him in the drawing room.
“She asked that you come and see her as soon as you returned, My Lord,” the butler said. Michael almost thought that he could detect a slight edge in the butler’s voice, but he could not understand why that should be the case.
“All right, I shall go and see her at once,” Michael said, making sure to keep his tone as casual as he could manage. “Thank you, Mr. Scanlon.”
Wondering whether he had imagined the edge in Scanlon’s voice or not, Michael crossed the entrance hall to the drawing room. The door was closed, so he knocked and waited for his mother’s voice to greet him before entering the room.
“Hello, Mother,” he said, purposely keeping his tone cheerful and light.
“Michael,” her voice was quiet. “I wondered where you had got to. Please come in and sit with me.”
“I am sorry to return so late, Mother,” Michael said. “I have had quite an unusual day.”
“Things have been fairly unusual at home as well, but please, tell me about your day.”
Michael took a deep breath, and considered how best to explain all that had happened since he had left home this morning. He knew that he must tell her about his engagement to Betsey, and saw no reason to hide the rest of what had happened today.
The Countess listened to Michael’s story, nodding as he spoke, and gasping in shock when he told her about being assaulted by Billy and Dick. When he told her of his engagement to Betsey, the Countess sighed deeply, and gave her son a searching look. Michael could not quite tell from her face what the Countess thought of this news.
“Mother,” he said, after a silent moment. “Please, I know that this news must come as a shock to you, but I love Betsey, and I know that we can be happy together, and that I could never be happy married to Lady Paulina. Will you support me in this choice?”
The Countess gave another deep sigh, and said, “Michael, all I want is for you to be happy, whether it is with a maid or the daughter of an Earl does not matter. It is your father who cares about those things, and…”
The Countess sighed once again, seeming uncertain of how to proceed. She opened lifted her hands up at her sides in a gesture that Michael took to mean that she did not know what might happen.
“Mother, you said that today has been an unusual day here as well. What happened?” He asked the question, not knowing whether he truly wanted to know the answer.
“Well, I do not know if you have been as blind to your father’s condition as I have been, but we both know that he has been ill.”
“Yes,” Michael said, careful to keep his tone neutral. His feelings about his father were complicated and sometimes dangerous, so he knew that he must proceed with caution. “He has been plagued by his cough for some time now. Has something changed?”
“Has something changed?” his mother repeated. “Well, now, that is a very complicated question, as it turns out. He finally agreed to see a physician, which is a significant change.”
Michael could not stop a small laugh from escaping his lips at this, and the Countess soon joined him, covering her mouth with her hand. But even as she giggled, tears were welling in her eyes.
“What did the physician say?” Michael asked, seeing that the news must not have been encouraging.
“He was concerned that your father reported no change in his symptoms for the past several months,” the Countess reported. “He said that it is unusual for a cough to linger for so long with no signs of improvement, and that this often indicates some grave infirmity of the chest.”
Michael stared at his mother for a moment, unsure what to make of this news. It certainly did not sound promising, but it seemed that the physician had been unable to tell them how severe his father’s infirmity might be. Whatever this diagnosis might mean, it did nothing to change Michael’s complicated feelings towards his father.
“And how did Father take this news?” Michael asked, wondering whether he had been explosively angry, or sullen and stoic. It never occurred to Michael that his father might have taken the news well.
“Well, I am not certain, to be honest,” the Countess said. “He has been confined to his bed all day, and does not wish to see me.”
“Oh, I see. How are you taking this news, Mother?”
“I am fine, Michael, just fine. I have been ignoring your father’s condition for too long now, but the truth is that the physician did not tell us anything that I did not know already.”
Michael knew that his mother would never say it out loud, but he felt certain that at least some part of her would feel relieved when his father died. I know that I will be, after all, though it must be a terrible sin to feel this way about my own father.
“How are you taking the news, Michael?”
“Oh, I suppose that I am still just taking it in, but I am fine, Mother. I suppose that I ought to speak to him. Do you think that I should?”
“He did ask about you earlier, and I am sure that he would like to speak with you.”
Michael was not sure that his father asking about him meant that he wished to speak to him, but he decided not to contradict his mother on this point. The Countess called for a servant and asked him to check on the Earl. The servant returned and reported that the Earl was awake and would like to see his son.
Michael bid his mother goodnight, stood up from the sofa, and followed the servant upstairs to his father’s bedchamber. The room was dimly lit, with a single taper candle on the small table next to the bed. The Earl was sitting up in his bed, clutching a handkerchief at his chest.
“Hello, Father,” Michael said, as he approached the bed. His father looked tired and weak, but Michael knew from years of experience that this did not mean that his words would not cut.
“Michael,” the Earl said, coughing into his handkerchief. “Have you been with Lady Paulina all this time, or have you found some way to offend her?”
“Actually, Father, I did want to speak with you about Lady Paulina.”
His father scowled at him, and looked as though he was about to respond, when he was caught by another coughing attack. Michael took advantage of his father’s momentary silence to tell him everything that he had told his mother in the drawing room.
The Earl coughed, sneered, and made disapproving faces throughout Michael’s story, but he said nothing until Michael had finished speaking.
At last, Michael had finished his explanation of all that had happened that day. He had told the story so many times now, and it never seemed any less absurd, but his father did not question the truth of it. He merely sighed deeply and shook his head.
“Michael, I have done everything that I could to ensure that your inheritance would be secure, that our family legacy would not only continue after I am gone, but would expand over time. Obviously, you do not care about any of that.”
“I am sorry that you feel that way, Father,” Michael said. “It is not that I do not care about our family’s future. But I love Betsey, and I cannot live without her. She matters more to me than expanding my future land holdings.”
“Well, you’ve always been a bit of a fool,” the Earl said, and then paused to cough once again before continuing. “Pretty maids are more common than dandelions in spring. You need not marry them simply because they strike your fancy!”
“Of course not,” Michael said, his anger clear in his tone now. “You can just ta
ke advantage of them, like you did with Anne!”
“What are you talking about?” The Earl nearly spat these words at his son.
“I suppose you do not even remember her name, the pretty maid who struck your fancy a few years ago? You sent her away when you made her pregnant. Is this beginning to sound familiar? She lives in London now with your daughter.”
The Earl stared blankly at his son for a moment. Finally he said, “Anne? Anne…yes, I suppose that does sound familiar. What else would you have had me do? I could hardly keep her and the child here at Hillfield. Can you imagine what that would do to your mother?”
“Yes,” Michael said, through gritted teeth. “I can imagine that it would have hurt her and humiliated her very much. And I suppose that I am a fool for never wanting to hurt my own wife in the same way. Well, if I am a fool to want to marry for love, then so be it!”
The Earl sighed once again as he recovered from another coughing fit. “Michael, you will be the Earl soon enough, do what you want, since you clearly have no intention of heeding me. Now get out of my sight!”
Michael did not argue with his father, and he did not wait to be told twice. He walked out of the room and closed the door behind him, fully aware that this might be the last conversation he ever had with his father. He knew that he ought to feel sad, or perhaps angry, that this would be their parting memory, but he could not bring himself to feel much of anything at all.
Once he had closed the door on his father’s bedchamber, he let go of his father entirely in both his heart and his mind. He wondered if his mother felt something similar about the possibility of losing her husband. As far as Michael could tell, he had never made her happy. He resolved to think no more of it, and focus instead on his own marriage and how to make his wife the happiest lady in all of England.
Chapter 32
Betsey and Michael were married six weeks after their engagement was made official. It was a relatively short engagement for members of the ton, but a long one for the residents of Tinsworth. The wedding was a simple affair, with the ceremony taking place at the parish church Betsey had attended as a child, and a picnic reception in the town square.
Michael’s father did not attend the ceremony, as he was still confined to his bed, but from what Michael had told her, she suspected that he would not have attended even if he had been in perfect health. She felt a tinge of sadness at the thought of this, but Michael did not seem to mind.
Betsey thought that she ought not to have minded her brother’s absence either, but she missed Simon in spite of the terrible thing that he had done. She hoped that someday he might understand why he had been so wrong, and they might be friends once again.
As her father walked her down the aisle of the church, Betsey looked around and saw the smiling faces of her friends and family members. She saw the gentleman that she loved, more than she had ever thought she could love anyone, standing at the altar waiting to become her husband. Betsey decided to focus on the wonderful things in her life, and not on the people who were missing.
Michael’s smile had always been captivating, but as he watched her walking down the aisle toward him, it radiated such pure joy, that Betsey thought it was unlike anything she had ever seen before. She felt the joy washing over her, and her own smile beamed back at Michael. Tears of happiness welled up in her eyes and she did not bother to hold them back.
The wedding ceremony was something of a blur. Betsey remembered a few words, but mostly she remembered staring deeply into Michael’s eyes. When the priest pronounced them man and wife, she could hardly believe that it was that simple—just a few words and they were now bonded for life. The love they felt for one another was not changed, but somehow having it recognized by everyone around them filled Betsey with more joy than she had anticipated.
She spent much of the afternoon talking to well-wishers from the village who came to the picnic reception. They complimented her on the simple white gown she wore, and the flowers that her mother had woven into her hair that morning. Some joked nervously about how they would need to curtsey and call her “My Lady” now that she was a Viscountess.
Betsey knew that they all meant well, and she loved them for their kindness and support, but she found the whole thing quite exhausting. She wanted desperately to be alone with Michael, and a thrill ran down her spine at the very thought of it.
“My Lady,” someone said to her from behind. Betsey turned around and saw that it was Lady Paulina, the Marquess of Portam at her side. She gave her former mistress a hug and thanked her for coming to the wedding. Not many members of the aristocracy had come. Michael’s mother planned to throw a ball in the couple’s honor once they arrived from their honeymoon, so that the Lords and Ladies need not attend a picnic in a village square.
“My Lady!” Betsey replied. “Thank you so much for coming!”
“You look beautiful, Betsey. I am so happy for you! And please, call me Paulina, you are not my maid any longer, and I am so glad that we can be friends.”
Betsey thought that this would take some time getting used to, but she appreciated Paulina’s kindness more than she could say. She hugged her friend and said that she was eager to attend Paulina’s wedding to the Marquess, who offered her a friendly smile.
When the picnic was finally ended, Betsey and Michael climbed into his family’s carriage and set off for London. They would be staying in the family’s townhouse for a few days before beginning their honeymoon tour of the continent.
Betsey was so exhausted that she feared she might fall asleep on the journey, but any thoughts of sleep quickly disappeared when Michael leaned in to kiss her. All of Betsey’s senses were aroused by his kisses, and she thought that the long journey to London would be torture.
As Michael kissed her deeply, she moaned in pleasure and wrapped her arms tightly around him, pulling him closer to her. The carriage seats were too narrow to allow them to lie down, but Betsey leaned back against the wall, pulling Michael with her, and the weight of his body against her chest made her pulse quicken.
Soon Michael was not just kissing her mouth. His lips traveled along her jaw to her neck, and he kissed the spot, just behind her ear, that sent a wave of pleasure through her entire body, causing the muscles in her stomach to tighten, and heat to spread between her legs.
Betsey ran her hands through Michael’s hair, down to his shoulders, and then reached inside his jacket to stroke his back, feeling his muscles ripple through the thin layer of his shirt. As her hands traveled down to his hips, she heard him moan, and the sound gave her even greater pleasure than her own sensations.
By the time the carriage arrived in London, Betsey felt out of control in her anticipation. Michael was her husband and she was his wife, they belonged to each other, and she wanted nothing so much as to possess him, and to be possessed by him.
It was all Betsey could do to maintain her composure when the driver opened the door and offered his hand to help her out of the carriage. Michael followed after her, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, but otherwise looking quite composed. He told the driver to bring the luggage into the entryway, and instructed the household servants to leave their trunks in the hall until they were called for.
Offering her his arm, Michael led Betsey to the bedroom they would be using during their stay. As soon as the door closed behind them, he kissed her once again, and Betsey lost what little composure she had left to her. Betsey lost herself entirely in this moment, unable to think of anything or anyone else. Later, she would wonder whether the servants had heard her sighs and moans through the walls, but in this moment she did not care.
Michael tugged at the laces of her gown, fumbling with them in his hurry. Betsey, who had much practice lacing and unlacing gowns, gave the laces one swift pull, and was out of her gown in seconds. Then she began to unbutton Michael’s shirt, nearly frantic in her desperation to see all of him.
Soon they stood before one another, naked. Betsey did not feel scared or ashamed,
she was too busy drinking in the sight of her husband’s beautiful body. He was looking at her hungrily, and imagining what he wanted to do to her brought a flush to Betsey’s cheeks.
Michael kissed her once again, and when she put her arms around his neck, he lifted her easily, carrying her to the four-poster bed in the center of the room. Michael laid down beside her, but was soon on top of her, kissing and caressing her. Betsey breathed in sharply when his lips closed around her nipple, gently circling it with his tongue, and again as his hands slid down over her belly and between her legs.
His fingers stroked at her center, moving in a gentle rhythm that seemed to send shockwaves radiating outward through every part of her body. She had thought of this spot as a secret that only she knew, but found that she had not truly understood the pleasure that could be found there until now.
The Viscount Who Seduced Her (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 26